By: Henry J. Fromage (Six Pack) –
So, I have a bad habit of perusing the list of major festivals (in this case Sundance) and marking down whatever sounds remotely interesting. A good portion of those films keep showing up in other venues later, and I pare the list as it becomes apparent which are worth a watch and which I can skip. The bad habit part of all of this concerns the films that I never really hear anything about again. They stay on the list until I run across a copy and give it a watch, and the results are often… interesting.
Oh hi there, brain melting insanity.
It’s hard to ascribe a plot to The Oregonian. A woman runs away from a horse farm, gets in a car crash, and wakes up in a demented parallel reality that looks suspiciously like backroads Oregon. Along the way she runs into an old woman who’s all smiles, an off-brand Philly Phanatic, and rape, probably.
Which I guess is implied whenever the Phanatic is involved
They couldn’t have picked a seedier shooting location than Bumfuck,Oregon, and the old grainy filmstock and throwback 70s shooting style was a nice touch. Somebody involved is a genius at marketing or being related to people as it snuck into Sundance, somehow.
I probably should have mentioned in the Toast section that this movie is hilarious, Birdemic-style. My favorite by far is the old woman that keeps popping up with her leering, supposed to be unsettling grin. The best part is how long the camera lingers on her. The actress is clearly confused by the length of the shot, as her creepy grin stays in place but her eyes communicate nothing but “Are we done yet?”
I was surprised to learn the lead actress, Lindsay Pulsipher, had actually acted before. She’s not Wiseau-bad, but it takes a far better actress than her to convincingly act crazy, and her once every ten minutes or so freakouts got progressively more laughable the longer the film wore on.
Much, much worse than her, though, was the chubby hipster they gave all of the wise old Indian lines to. If you don’t chortle at his delivery of “Those trees, they have a code, but it’s not for our understandin’,” then I have some poetry for you to read.
No, don’t clap. That pretentious-ass robot has a big enough head already.
Mascot sodomy while scrambled eggs are ladled into a gaping spinal chord wound. ‘Nuff said?
I could have swallowed this all as the entertainingly incompetent pretentious camp it aspired to be if not for the sound design. Pulsipher screams, well, constantly, and at a volume that strains the speakers you had to turn up to catch the abnormally low dialogue. Eventually I figured out skipping the dialogue was just fine, although I made sure to turn things up whenever Old Man River had another line.
If you’re in a very specific mood for low-budget hipster gore-porn and are aggressively avoiding logic, then… wait, no. There has to be some other option out there.
Bonus Drinking Game
Take a Drink: anytime anyone spits up milk or canned cherries
Take a Drink: any time anyone has a cigarette in her mouth
Take a Drink: every time the main actress squeals (screams?)
Drink a Shot: every time the smiling old woman shows up